


Heartbeat

by Germansunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Post 5x09, Team Delusional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Germansunshine/pseuds/Germansunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl's heart is broken. Beth is trying to put her shattered brain back together.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have been having a major writing block the last month. No matter how hard I tried, the next chapter to my other multi-chapter fic Be Good just wouldn't come to me. No matter what angle I took, nothing felt quite right,  
> But I had this nagging feeling. And finally today I gave in.  
> I guess this story wants to come out. I feel very inspired by so many stories like this that are out there...so it's not a new approach. I still hope you enjoy reading.  
> Please comment and let me know what you think.  
> I am still Team Delusional, because there are so many things that don't quite make sense to me in Beth's storyline. However, I am realistic enough to know, that my hopes for Beth to return to us on screen might be crushed come Sunday. Nevertheless, I have come to a realiziation: Beth will always be alive to me no matter what, because we are keepin her alive in our stories.  
> Love all of you Bethylers and Beth-Fans!
> 
> Also: No beta. I make mistakes. Deal with it ;-). Or shoot me if they are really, really bad.

Her first conscious thought is that she is not sure whether she is dreaming or awake.

There is a constant beeping. It is loud, too loud. She wants it to stop, wants it to go away. It hurts her ears and pierces her skull. She feels like it is splitting her head in two.

Silently she screams at it to stop. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t go away.

And it keeps her here. Anchors her here in this plane of existence.

She is not sure where here is. Just that it is loud. It is uncomfortable. And she feels exhausted.

So all she wants is to sink back into the blackness that is pulling at her. Pulling her down into the sweet oblivion she has come from.

She wants to go back there. She doesn’t want to stay here where she knows she is hurting. Hurting something awful. The pain is everywhere at once and nowhere in particular.

She wants to go back.

But the beeping doesn’t stop. If at all it speeds up as time passes. Whether it’s minutes or seconds she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how many beeps she’s heard. She can’t tell how long it’s been that she is listening. It might be years.

She swears she hears movement around her. Unlike the beeping though - which has become like the constant prick of a needle into her ear drums - the noise she hears is hushed. It’s like she is in a bubble and all she can hear are muffled sounds far away.

Sometimes the sounds get louder and she can make out speaking. Some words reach her ears, but they don’t make sense. _EEG - waking up - tube - waste of resources._

She doesn’t see, but she hears and she feels that she is not alone. She feels movement around her. Someone is touching her face. She wants to open her eyes, see who it is and what is going on, but she can’t.

And then there’s a bright light in one of her eyes and it hurts. It stings bad and she wants to shut her eye, but she can’t.

She hears a moan.

She feels vibration in her chest.

She realizes that the moan is her own. She is hearing herself moan.

Before her eye falls back shut she can make out someone in white hovering above her. And there is a bright flash of light.

That’s all for now though. She is tired, so tired.

She fades away into the blackness again. It is soft and it’s warm there. She likes it.

But the beeping never stops. 

* * *

 

Every morning he wakes and for a few precious seconds he doesn’t feel it. For a little bit it’s as if everything is the way it’s supposed to be.

And then he remembers.

And the emptiness returns. The dull ache in his chest. The feeling of wanting to tear himself apart to stop the panic, to end the despair.

But every morning his cruel mind reminds him.

Every morning his own memory tortures him by replaying it like a movie in his head. The shot. Her blood. How she is falling. The heaviness of her lifeless body in his arms. The wails and screams around him.

It’s like a nightmare, only that his nightmare doesn’t come when he sleeps. He is living it: A nightmare lasting every waking second he spends.

It’s always there, never leaving him.

He tries to get rid of it, he tries hard.

He tries not sleeping, hoping he’ll be too exhausted to care about it anymore. But no matter how many days he goes without sleep, he cares.

He tries not eating, thinking hunger will surely chase away every other feeling he has. But the hunger only makes it worse, intensifies the craving he feels.

He tries fighting. Letting go of his anger and pain by killing everything dead and walking around him. His anger recedes some. But the pain stays.

He even tries fighting the living. Rick once. Tyreese, too. Abraham three times. But nothing changes.

He bleeds, he bruises, he hurts physically worse than he ever did in his life. Still, it is not nearly as bad as the pain inside. The hollowness. The gaping vacuum he feels in his stomach. The pressure on his chest that is almost crushing him until he can no longer breathe, but only almost, never enough to really suffocate him. It is keeping him on the precipice, always.

The only thing that somehow works is keeping away from everyone. Receding into himself. Closing himself off. It’s how he has coped with the ugliness in his childhood. It’s how he was able to deal with the grief over his mother’s burned bones. By shutting it in.

Talking about it only rips away the scar tissue around the wounds and he can’t keep bleeding all the time. He can't be a sobbing mess.

He sees the worry in everyone’s eyes. He knows they are hurting, too. He knows he is hurting them by shutting them out.

Still, he can’t let them in. Can’t find it in himself to care about their pain as well.

Shutting everything out is the only way it’s bearable. The only way he can exist. The only way he can survive.

He knows he is not living. Far from it. But he is surviving. He is still standing.

He will be the last man standing. She saw him like that. She wanted him to be.

He can’t do nothing for her anymore, but he can still do this. He will make sure to not let her down in this as well.

Daryl Dixon will be the last man standing.


	2. Chapter 2

When she finally regains consciousness she is alone.

She is lying in a bed, dressed in a blue hospital gown and there is a window to her right. It is bright. She can feel the sunlight warm on her skin.

The room she is in is empty but for her and the bed.

And the beeping is still there. It’s coming from her left.

She turns her head. It takes her a while. Her head is so heavy and the muscles in her neck are so weak. There is an IV-stand and a machine with a monitor. It’s a heart monitor.

The beeping - it’s herself. It’s her own heartbeat.

She knows this room. She knows she does, she knows she’s been in it before. But she can’t place where she is.

She tries to move. She tries to get up out of the bed. She feels like she needs to walk up to the window and look out. But her body doesn’t move. She can lift her arms a little, but only for an inch or so and only for a moment before they fall back onto the bed lifelessly. Her right leg twitches a little and her foot tingles. Her left leg doesn’t move at all. She can hardly feel herself below her chest.

She can’t move. Oh God, she can’t move.

She starts panicking. She hears her heartbeat accelerating. The beeping becomes frantic.

She knows she should calm down, panicking won’t help her. She needs to concentrate. She needs to focus. Somehow she knows that she cannot panic.

She wants to shout, but stops herself. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like she shouldn’t make any loud noises either. Like drawing attention to herself by screaming would be a very bad thing to do. It would be dangerous.

What? What would be dangerous? Why would it be dangerous to scream?

Before she can think on it further a door opens to her left.

Someone comes into the room and rushes to her bed when he catches her looking at him.

It’s a man. He has glasses and a dark beard. And he is wearing a coat. A white coat. A doctor, she thinks.

“You’re awake,” the man states.

She tries to answer but the only sound that comes out of her mouth is a sad little croak. She coughs. Her throat and mouth are so dry. 

“Wait. Don’t.” The doctor tells her quickly.

He reaches to his left. Then he lifts her head and puts a glass of water to her lips.

“Drink,” he instructs, “It will help.”

She gulps greedily, but even though she wants it all she can only manage a few sips before she feels like she is drowning. Sputtering she pulls back.

“It’s ok. Everything is ok.” The man tells her.

“Do you understand what I am saying?” he asks.

Her mouth tries to form the words. It takes some time, but finally she hears herself whisper a tiny “Yes.”

“Do you know your name?”

She thinks, she thinks hard.

“Beth.” She whispers.

“My name is Beth.” She says more firmly. Yes, Beth. That is her name. She is Beth.

She can’t shake the feeling of a deja-vu. Like this has already happened. Like she already knows this.

“Good.” The doctor says and smiles. “Do you know where you are?”

She thinks. She thinks hard. But her mind only draws a blank.

“You are at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.”

Should she know that? Has she been here before? She can’t remember.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

The beeping she wants to say. The darkness. But no, that can’t be right. There was something else. There was someone else.

She concentrates. Her head is starting to hurt. She groans. Her head is pounding angrily, like her mind doesn’t want her to remember. But she tries. She tries to focus, tries to see through the pain.

Finally, a memory flashes through her.

_It is dark, but she is in a house. She needs to get out though. She needs to get out. Someone is yelling at her to get out. She wants to. But she can’t. She can’t because….she can’t leave him. There are walkers and she can’t leave without him._

_She can see him. She can hear him._

_Then she is outside. It is still dark. There are trees. And there are walkers stumbling towards her. She tries to run but she can’t. Her ankle - it’s hurt. And she turns back. She looks for him. Looks for him to run towards her._

Then it ends.

She swallows heavily. She is breathing hard and her heart is almost jumping out of her chest.

“Shhh….it’s ok. Everything is ok. Just try to breathe. In and out. In and out.”

It takes a while, but it is working. She calms down. She doesn’t feel like she is suffocating anymore. The doctor has taken her hand and is holding it softly. His steadiness pulls her back to the now.

“What do you remember?” he asks again.

“Daryl. Where is Daryl?”

* * *

Rick sees it. Michonne sees it, too. Hell, probably the whole group sees it. They are not blind.

Well, maybe Maggie doesn’t see it. She is too distracted by her own grief, but to everyone else it is obvious.

Daryl’s heart is broken.

They all wonder. They try to ask, they try to coax him to talk, and they try to help.

Nothing works.

He won’t tell them what happened before. He won’t tell them what he is feeling. He won’t tell them what she was to him.

Rick can guess, though. He sees himself in Daryl. He was the same after Lori.

No one really wants to believe that Daryl and Beth crossed that certain line while they were together.

Rick thought he knew Daryl. Rick knew Beth. And Rick never thought that a mere two weeks would be enough to coax Daryl out of his shell.

But apparently Rick didn’t know shit. After all two weeks was enough for Daryl Dixon to lose his heart. He can only wonder how Beth felt about Daryl. He likes to think she felt the same.

The others don’t see it like he does, though. They attribute Daryl’s heartbreak to his guilt. They think he blames himself for her death. That her death was only the last straw to push him over the edge. One loss too many, one more person to add the the list of everyone they had to leave behind.

Only Carol and Rick know that before that horrible day in Atlanta, for the few days after they had all re-united, Daryl had been further from the edge than ever in the time they knew him. The two of them had recognized the faint changes in their friend.

Then, when Beth had fallen to the floor dead, Daryl had followed her into the abyss.

Rick is hurting, too.

Not a day goes by that he wishes he could go back and do things differently. Do right by her. He realizes that she was almost like a daughter to him. So he is hurting from that loss, but he can’t let himself be consumed by it. He has Carl and Judith to protect. He has to grasp every branch that he can in order to give them a chance. He is glad that Michonne is there to remind him of it.

But he is hurting. As is everyone else. Carl, Michonne, Sasha… even Judith. Noah and Glenn of course. Even the new additions to their group realize that someone special was lost.

And Maggie… Maggie is barely holding on.

But no one is hurting worse than Daryl. And Rick knows what he is going through. Knows what it feels like to have so many words left unsaid. Rick knows heartbreak. He knows Daryl needs time.

So he gives him that. Gives him time.

He tells everyone to keep away from him, to let him grieve. They are scared that he will not come back to them, and that might come true. But no one can make Daryl come back. If he comes back, it’s because he can let go of some of it. Move on.

So Rick waits.

But Daryl doesn’t come back.

He is still there physically. He still supports them, he still helps making decisions. He still hunts, he still fights. But in everything he does, it becomes clear that Daryl doesn’t care anymore.

When they fight Rick gets scared sometimes. Daryl is so feral, so beyond everything, that it shocks Rick. Daryl is taking inhumane risks, but he always comes out alive. Even when it seems impossible, he always escapes no matter how many walkers are after him.

One time, somewhere in Virginia shortly after Tyreese’s death, they are cornered by wolves. Real life wolves. Rick thinks that they are done for. He tells Carl to run with Judith. Sends Carol with them to protect them. Gives them cover to escape. They know how to fight the dead. They know how to fight the living. A pack of wolves is another story. No matter how many he shoots, no matter how many Michonne takes down, they are surrounded. He can hear anguished screams behind him. People are being taken down. He fights, continues fighting. He shoots and shoots. He tries to use his machete.

In the end it is Daryl who saves them all. He gets himself bit and draws most of the pack towards him. Most importantly he focuses on the pack’s leader. With his big knife he slashes left and right. He kicks anything that comes towards him. Every one of them that tries to sink their teeth into his flesh, he fights off with unfettered ferocity. When the pack leader is down, the rest of the wolves scatter. Daryl is still standing. He is shaky and his left arm is bleeding heavily from a bite, but he is standing. His eyes are empty though. He is not relieved. He was never scared.

That’s when Rick knows that Daryl will not come back. He survives and fights, but he is not scared of death or pain.

So yes, Rick knows heartbreak. But not like this. Not like Daryl.

He can’t but wonder how long Daryl will stay with them. How long they have until he leaves and goes off by himself.

So one night he asks him. And Daryl’s answer is not what he expects. It is simple really and Rick’s heart clenches once more for his brother when he hears it.

“Until the end. As long as I am standing.”

“Why?”

“Because she wanted me to.”


	3. Chapter 3

It takes her about a week to piece together how she came to be where she is.

The first few days are painful. It is not only her head, her whole body is aching. Turns out being shot in the head and being in a coma for almost 20 days is a big strain on the human form.

In the beginning she is mainly concerned with drinking, eating and getting rid of the pain. Getting relief. And resting. A lot of resting. There isn’t much energy for anything else.

But after a week or so, the puzzle pieces of the story Dr. Edwards and Officer Shepherd are telling her and the flashes of memory she has fit together to form a picture.

Dr. Edwards tells her she has retrograde amnesia. He also tells her it is very common in patients with head injuries.

They had found her injured on the road four weeks before and brought her here. Two head injuries in four weeks - she guesses it makes sense to forget some stuff.

Everything that’s happened after that first time she hit her head for instance. All that is gone. There is a slight sense of deja-vu, but that is it. Nothing here triggers her memory.

It’s funny though, how the brain works. She remembers every single fact about the world, every little insignificant detail she has learned once, every crumb anyone has ever taught her. The important things though, those are gone. Almost anything about herself. Even the essentials. Like her last name.

But at least little bits are coming back. A little is better than nothing, right?

Would help if she had people from before here to help her remember. The doctor tells her that the mind needs a little push sometimes. Little things that spark a memory. Triggers.

And it’s true. There are triggers.

When they bring her a peach to eat on her second day she remembers the peach trees on their neighbors farm. And she remembers Shawn and Maggie. And her Ma and her Daddy. How they always had peach cobbler when the first peaches were ripe that year.

When she wakes up very cold one night, she remembers how awfully cold she was once when she camped on the road one winter.

When she sees Shepherd in her uniform for the first time she remembers the blue of the guard’s uniform in the prison.

Her memories though, they are like snap shots in time. Like photographs, capturing specific moments. Like a scrapbook of her life that is missing most of its pages.

They tell her that when her people came to get her one of the officers spooked and started shooting. She can believe that. It’s not a world to trust strangers and some people just go bat-shit crazy.

They say she was caught in the crossfire and assumed dead. Well, she has the bullet hole in her skull to prove that.

Her people took her with them, but had to leave her in the backseat of a car in the parking lot when a herd cornered them. Beth really wants to believe that is true. Wants to believe that her people cared as much.

The people here were about to get her body and give her a proper burial when Shepherd put a hand to her back and felt her heartbeat. Then they took care of her.

She asks them who exactly of her people were there to get her. She remembers faces and names, but she can’t seem to match them or decide who is from an earlier part in her life and who is from the recent past.

Anyone but Daryl, that is. She knows she was with him right before this.

She knows they belonged together, that they took care of each other. That they were alone and that it was just the two of them.

She knows she trusted him with her life. She knows he would have looked for her.

When Shepherds describes a blue-eyed redneck with a bow and a leather vest with angel wings, Beth smiles.

She stops smiling when Shepherd describes how that redneck broke down and carried her out. How he was almost bitten when he tried to keep the walkers away from her body.

When Shepherd says that the man who was in charge was Rick Grimes, Beth remembers a Sheriffs hat.

So essentially Beth knows nothing more but a rough draft of her life.

She once had a brother and a sister and a mother and a father. They lived on a farm.

Then the world went to shit. At some point they lived on the road. With other people. A Sheriff and his family.

Then they lived in a prison.

And then she lived in the woods with Daryl. And finally in a house, in a big white clean house.

It’s not much, but it is a start.

And she knows that 3 weeks ago, Daryl and Rick were still alive.

And she knows that they think she is dead.

And she is stuck here.

She is literally stuck because she can hardly move. The doctor says it’s normal. That her muscles need to regain strength; that the neurons in her body need to rediscover the pathways to deliver her brains messages to her legs and arms; that the tingling in her limbs means she is regaining sensations and she should be able to move again.

While she doesn’t trust the doctor otherwise, his medical diagnosis seems legit. He is nice to her. He is concerned. But in his eyes she detects a whole lot of guilt when he looks at her. She doesn’t know what to make of it.

Other than him only Shepherd and one or two people in nursing outfits come in. She hears more cops in the hall. And other people. But they all stay away, which is honestly fine by her. It alls seems fishy to her.

Shepherd is the only one who she thinks is earnest when she says she is meaning her well. She is lying about something, Beth is sure. Some things they tell her feel engineered. Too simple. Whatever her motive though, overall Beth believes that Shepherd is not out to harm her.

So after a week, Beth still has many questions. But she makes a decision. She needs to work. She needs to get better. She needs to get out of here.

And then she needs to find her people. Needs to find Daryl.

She needs answers.

She can’t define what she is feeling when she thinks about Daryl. Right now he is the most important person in her life. He is the only one she doesn’t just remember in flashes. She remembers feeling something when she was with him. Something good. She knows she needs to find him. She doesn’t know what they were to each other. Her memories give her bits of conversation, looks he gave her, scenes of eating snake by a fire and peanut butter at a kitchen table, but they don’t tell her what he was to her and what she was to him. She needs to know. She needs to find him and find out.

And she knows he would want her to find him, too.

That’s why Beth decides that she will not stay here at this hospital. She will get out.

* * *

 

The first few weeks are the worst. He has never felt this way and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He can’t even say what it is exactly that he feels. Why he feels like this. What it was and is he feels for her.

That one time on the road Rick tells him that he lost something back there. If he hadn’t been so numb; he would have snorted. Understatement of the year.

When Carol tells him that she saved him and that he needs to let himself grieve, it sets something in motion inside of him. He still runs away whenever he can. He can’t stand to be around everyone all the time. But when he lets the pain out, when he lets himself cry…for a few hours afterward he feels a little relief.

It is only a few hours and then the pain is back full force. But at least it is a little less heavy for those moments in between.

And Carol helps him understand.

She saved his life. She really did.

She gave him hope where he had none. She gave him strength when he needed it. She helped him overcome, she helped burn it all down and start new.

But now she is gone and he is alone again. And he doesn’t know how he is supposed to go on without her to guide him. Without her hope and her light and her voice and her strength.

It’s all darkness he sees now. Even when he is looking at the sun, he only sees darkness.

Still, when Rick says that they are dead - that they are walking, but they are dead - he remembers her. Remembers what she would have said, so he says it in her stead. Because even in his darkness he can still tell that is a fucking load of bull.

They ain’t them.

It’s true. He stands by it. He might have said “We” actually, but hadn’t meant to include himself in that. He is after all, a dead man walking.

But Judith and Carl. Michonne, Carol and Glenn. Even Maggie. They aren’t dead, yet. And she would want him to keep reminding them. To stay what they are.

So he fixes that music box.

To remind Maggie.

And maybe a little bit for himself. Because he thinks it would have made her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, all those feels in this week's episode.
> 
> When you think those bastards can't make you hurt anymore, they break your heart all over again.
> 
> But man, does Norman Reedus play the shit out of it. God.
> 
> Anyways, I am Team Delusional, still. And the way this is going I will be for the rest of my live because they just don't want to give us any closure. They should either admit that they screwed up badly with her death and treated the character, Emily and the fans badly or they should say that they everything means something....Argh...
> 
> At least that crap makes me write, right?
> 
> But I think I need a hug. A really big one :-(.


	4. Chapter 4

He hates being in Alexandria. It’s good and it’s safe. The people are decent. They get to stay in clean houses, wear clothes without holes and eat portions bigger than the bare minimum. Still, he hates it.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate that the group is safe or that he can’t enjoy the small luxuries that life in the Zone provides; but he would still rather be outside surviving on his own. In here he has too much time to think. Too much time to remember.

Everything about this place is so like her. Everything screams to him, that she would have been good here. That she would have thrived. She would have sung, she would have played. She would have laughed.

It’s unfair. So unfair.

She deserved to be here. He sure as hell does not deserve it.

Rick’s house is white. White. Like the funeral home. Like the house he wanted to make their home. She isn’t gone for even 4 weeks and they get to have a home again. She wanted a home. Almost got it.

What he wouldn’t give to trade his place. He does not deserve to be here. She does. She was good. The people here, they are good. He can see that. She was right about that. There are still good people, after all.

And he can’t stand being around them. He tries to be what he is, but most days it is just easier to slip into what he was.

And maybe he has become someone else, too. Someone broken.

He avoids people as much as he can. Rick, Carl and Judith are the only ones he sees regularly. If it weren’t for Lil-Asskicker he would not come around even as little as he does now. He still cares. He still cares about Carol or Michonne, about Glenn and Maggie. He just can’t stand being around them much anymore. They all adjust so quickly. They relax, they smile more. They are not only surviving, they are starting to live again. They have hope. They believe in a future.

He doesn’t. Can’t see the sense in it. Can’t hope anymore.

He is glad that they are better, but he knows that this is not going to last. Nothing ever will.

One of these days they will have to run again. They will lose people. They will suffer. There will be enemies who will try to take what they have. That’s just the way of the world these days. You can’t hang on to the good.

So he can’t smile along with them. He can’t settle into this life and try to make it last.

He hides out in his little house on the edge of town that they have given him. When he is inside the walls, of course. Most of the time he is out. Out hunting. Or he takes watch duty. Or clears. He doesn’t need more than a couple hours of sleep. Doesn’t even need the house. He’d sleep on Rick’s porch, if they’d let him. But they insist he take a house. They insist he eat. They try to make him a member of the community.

The new people give up fairly quickly. They have been unbiased and welcoming, he will give them that. But a few weeks of his gruff demeanor and they have him labeled as the loner he wants to be.

He just wishes his family would give up on him as well.

But they don’t. They still include him. They drag him to family dinners. They come around for visits. They make him come along to community events.

He hates them for it.

One day it is actually Maggie that snaps. Tells him he needs to stop it. That he needs to move on. That he needs to let go of the guilt. That he doesn’t honor Beth this way, that she is just an excuse for him to withdraw.

She tells him that Beth was strong and would want them to be strong.

He asks her why it matters to her.

She says everytime she sees him still grieving, she is reminded of her own pain and he’s making it hard for her to let go. She needs to live. She needs to fight. She wants to remember the good things about her sister. She can’t keep on grieving.

And he is making it hard for their family. They care, they worry. They can’t lose him, too. So can he please just let it go?

No he can’t.

Can’t or won’t?

Can’t.

Why?

He doesn’t answer but Maggie finally seems to get that there are things she doesn’t know. Things she doesn’t understand.

He is not just grieving for his companion of two weeks, he is not just grieving because he feels guilty. It’s more than that.

So much more.

Maggie is puzzled. Maggie wonders. But there’s no sense to talk about what might have been. So she lets him be.

Carol is very persistent, too. She tells him what he told her in Atlanta. That they get to start over. That they are not dead. She tells him, that she is trying, finally. That she lost Sophia and that it still hurts every single day, but that she finds a way to deal with it, finds a way to live with it. She tells him it can be the same for him. That he can still live, that he can start over.

Why doesn’t anyone get that he simply doesn’t want to?

Not anymore.

He burned that stupid book the day after they left Atlanta.

He overhears Rick and Michonne one night. Michonne says she thinks he is suffering from depression. That it is not healthy and not normal to grieve like that. She asks Rick whether he thinks that Daryl might kill himself.

He doesn’t even wait for Rick’s answer. It doesn’t matter, because he is not about to opt out. He wishes that he could, wishes every day that he had it in him.

But his survivor’s instinct won’t let him. And he knows that it would be the coward’s way out. He deserves to feel the pain. He deserves to live with it. Ending it would just be running away.

A Dixon doesn’t run away. A Dixon takes what is handed to him. A Dixon endures.

When the whip comes down on your back, you do not cry, you do not struggle. You simply take it.

So he survives. Survives with the pain.

He stays in Alexandria. But he hates it. Hates every single day of it. Hates every day that the sun rises above them. Like it is mocking him. Mocking his pain.

He looks around and knows that it is not fair.

She didn’t make it here.

This is not the way it should have been.

* * *

After two weeks she can sit up in bed by herself. After four she can wiggle her left leg. By week five she finally manages to get to the window. She needs a crutch of course, but she can finally look out.

She is working herself hard. As hard as she can. She wants it to go faster.  
She wants her memory to come back.

But the harder she tries, the slower it goes.

The doctor tells her she needs to be patient. She needs to give her body and her brain the time to heal.

She continues with her strict regimen anyway.

She pushes herself to exhaustion every day. Works her body as hard as it will allow.

It pays her back with seizures.

The first one is a shock. She has trained relentlessly for a week. She can feel her head is getting fuzzy. Her limbs are shaking with slight tremors and cold sweat breaks out on her forehead. The next thing she knows she is on the floor next to her bed, a worried Shepherd and Edwards over her.

It was to be expected. Seizures are the most common complication after head trauma.  
Well shit.

She trains even harder. She needs to be stronger. She pushes and shoves.

But the seizures come more frequently. By week eight, she doesn’t go a day without one.

It is a major setback. How is she supposed to survive in this world when she can collapse in a seizure any minute?

Her mood blackens, her spirit lags.

And she remembers things she would rather have forgotten.

Like her father’s beheading.

Or talking through a door with her sister about people being sick, about people being in danger.

She thinks it’s the more recent events that are coming back to her slowly. But she can only guess.

The seizures pull her down. Not only physically. She hardly recovers any memories anymore.

It is almost like she is not supposed to get out of here, like she is not supposed to remember.

She considers staying. They have offered. Even asked. They say she could do good here.

She thinks about it.

But then she dreams of him again. She dreams of him smiling in the moonlight, dreams of him telling her to sing.

_I’ll be gone some day._

_Don't._

_You’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon._

She hears the pain in his voice, sees that he is afraid.

And she knows she has to fight. She needs to conquer this.

She puts her head on straight.

Instead of fighting the seizures, she tries to listen, tries to find out what they are telling her.

The signs are all there; you just gotta know how to read them.

It takes a while, but she recognizes patterns. When she pushes herself too much, when she is over-working herself, her nervous system repays her with a seizure. When she is exhausted and pessimistic, she is more likely to get one as well. And there are tell tale signs when one is approaching. The tremor, the lightheaded-ness, the sweating.

She pulls back on training. She takes a slower approach and gives herself time to recuperate between sessions. She tries to stay positive and strong. She learns to be patient.

And it works, it really works.

The seizures go from coming every day to every other day, then only three times a week, finally only weekly.

And her physical strength continues improving. She makes more progress in a day, than she had in weeks.

After four months she walks along the hallway unassisted for the first time.

It’s a milestone.

That night in bed she cries from relief. She knows she is going to make it. She is strong. She will make it out of here. She will go look for Daryl and her people.

There is still so little she remembers, but she clings to every little spark, every tiny flash.

She doesn’t know what happened to her family. She doesn’t know whether Maggie, Shawn and her Mama are still alive. But she wants to know. She needs to know.

She sees so many places. Faces flash before her eyes. But she doesn’t understand the significance of them. She wants to understand.

What does it all mean?

The only way she can find out is by searching for her people, people that knew her before, people that can tell her and help her remember.

She needs to find him. He needs to help her comprehend.

Not knowing herself is awful.

Damn it to hell.

That stupid “oh”.

If only she knew what it all meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I really needed those hugs! Thank you, guys!
> 
> I hate, hate, hate what they are doing to Daryl. And the rest is just so....boring? I don't know. It just feels like they are not progressing at all. Beth would have made such a difference. I don't get why they build and expanded her character and not have it affect the group. I mean that whole Grady sequence? Total waste of money. If Beth was just kidnapped by random creeps and died then, the effect on everyone would have been the same, wouldn't it?
> 
> Well....I hope the next episodes get more interesting.
> 
> My hope is slowly dying. There is still that weird people running to cars flashback that they haven't explained, but Lord knows. I guess the writer's know, but hey...don't think they know their own minds really, so maybe it was all just nothing....
> 
> Anyways, you guys are just the loveliest. What would I do without you? Misery really do loves company ;-)


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